


==> Eridan, bond with your hero

by SlaveToMyKeyboard



Series: Bubbleverse [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Awkwardness, Bonding, Dualscar doesn't know how to moirail, Fluff, Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, but he tries, but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SlaveToMyKeyboard
Summary: When you first met him, you wouldn’t have even thought about talking back, lest he help you discover that you really can double-die in these bubbles. Heck, even your wildest dreams never allowed the fantasy that you’d actually meet him at all.Yet here he is, in the ghostly flesh, scars an’ all. And weirdly, he’s actually not a bad guy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For @CrowOnTheDownlow on tumblr

It’s something you never thought was possible, but you’re a better shot in death than you ever were in life. You line up the Crosshairs with the furthest target and pull the trigger, digging your heels in as the beam shoots a hole straight through the bullseye.

“Yer gettin’ good, lad.“

You scoff, “W-what do you mean ‘gettin’? I'we been shootin this thing since I could afford ta hold it.”

Dualscar’s eyes are as white as yours, but you swear he rolls them before turning around and heading back to his hive. You sling the gun over your shoulder and follow.

“It ain’t about howv much time ya spent, it’s about technique, _finesse_ ,” he says. “Vwich is somethin’ you vwere lackin’ from those svweeps a huntin’ afore you could catch.”

You frown, but don’t say anything. Hunting before you can catch is an old sea dweller saying - it basically means you just go in and shoot without thinking, so if you were told to catch something alive, you wouldn’t be able to. Which… Isn’t entirely untrue, you guess. But you had no reason to catch things; Fef’s Lusus wanted an endless stream of corpses, and that’s what you provided.

“I bet I’m still a better shot than you w-were at my age, you old codfish.” You nudge his arm to, hopefully, imply that you’re joking. But his arms are thick as your thighs, so when he knocks you a few feet sideways, you can’t tell if he’s angry or not until he gives a deep chuckle.

“That’s only cause I gawve you a head start,” he holds his hand out, so you gingerly pass Ahab’s Crosshairs over to him. “I had ta earn the priwvilege of puttin my mitts on this beastie, you got lucky an’ found ‘er before yer time.”

“Fiwe sw-weeps is plenty old enough!” You argue, fanning out your fins.

Dualscar just laughs again, “A course it is.”

When you first met him, you wouldn’t have even thought about talking back, lest he help you discover that you really can double-die in these bubbles. Heck, even your wildest dreams never allowed the fantasy that you’d actually meet him at all.

Yet here he is, in the ghostly flesh, scars an’ all. And weirdly, he’s actually not a bad guy. The history books painted him as ruthless, selfish and cruel, which he is, you’re not going to lie, but he’s also intelligent, scarily so. And sometimes, you swear there’s a hint of softness in him, when you make a difficult shot, or tell some tale from your flarping days, and he looks at you with this smile.

It’s kind of weird, but kind of nice at the same time.

Dualscar holds the door open for you, and you bow dramatically then stick your tongue out when he laughs. You were scared of his laugh at first; is deep, booming, almost a growl sometimes. But now the reverberation in your aural fins is a comfort of sorts. You look at him and see everything you wanted to be. You can only hope that he sees at least a little of himself in you, too.

His hive is similar to yours, except this ship is still seaworthy, albeit beached in an ocean of sand. Apparently there’s more water when you’re not in the bubble. You try not to think about why.

“Vwhat’ll it be, Eri?” Dualscar asks, stopping halfway between the galley and his liquor cabinet. “Sparklin’ vwater, or hoofbeast milk?”

He always teases you like this. You scoff, tilting your chin up as you reply with practiced confidence, “Gin n’ tonic, if ya don’t mind.”

“Hah, there’s my boy.” Dualscar flashes you a grin and mixes a glass for both of you, complete with a slice of blood orange.

Just because you’re not eight yet doesn’t mean you can’t handle your alcohol. Besides, he never lets you get more than tipsy; always taking away your glass and handing you some water in that frustratingly endearing way you’ve missed since your Lusus died.

Speaking of, that sounds like your ghostly caregiver now. It took you a while to find _your_ Seahorsedad in the bubbles - they all look the same. Well, you guess he found you, really, sniffing you all over before allowing the reunion you’d desired. Stupid Skyhorse. You will forever deny that you cried.

You put down your glass to greet the old steed, but the door opens before you can get close enough to grab the handle.

If you still had a working vascular system, it would have just seized up and sent you keeling over. As it is, you don’t even notice you’ve stopped breathing, because _She_ ’s standing in front of you.

“Erifish!” She grins and it chills you to the core.

You stumble backwards into a wall, feet numb and skin clammy with a cold sweat.

“Ey, that yer little Heiress?” Dualscar is at your side, calm as fuckin anything, and you fight the urge to reach out and cling to him.

You haven’t told him what happened. At least… not that part of it. He know about Kanaya, how you killed her and then she killed you and you guess you kind of deserved it. But he doesn’t know about _Her_. The one giving you a confused frown like there’s no reason for you to be absolutely shitting yourself right now, except you- you did this, it was you who- who killed-

Unless… You manage to focus on the clothes that adorn Her. Beige, green, a long dress and hood.

She’s not yours.

You finally exhale, melting into a dizzy puddle on the floor. The God Tier Feferi says something, and Dualscar replies in his low tone. The Skyhorse follows when Feferi leaves. They must be looking for their Eridan together.

“Hey,“ Dualscar sounds odd as his voice breaks through your bubble, soft not just from the fuzziness of your own head, and… Worried, you think. “Hey, laddie, you still vwith me?”

He touches your shoulder and you flinch. Dualscar gives a heavy sigh.

“C'mon, up vwe get,” he says, curling his fingers around your arms and pulling until your legs are forced to work.

You manage to stand on your own, but barely. This is so stupid. You’re pathetic.

“Nowv,” he steadies you by the shoulders, looking into your eyes even as they’re glued to the floor. “Vwhat vwas all that about? Hm?”

You shake your head. There’s a sticky lump at the back of your throat. You can’t cry. Not over that, and not in front of your ancestor.

“You don’t vwanna tell me, or ya can’t?”

All you can do is shake your head again, swallowing thickly as you drag your eyes up to his chest. If you look any higher you won’t be able to hold back.

“Vwell I can’t do anythin to help unless you say somethin,” he tells you. “Or type it, or vwhatewver it is you kids do these nights.”

Something about that makes you laugh, but you barely manage a snort before the sounds turn into sniffs and awful, sad squeaks, muffled by teeth clamping down on your quivering bottom lip. Your eyes prickle with tears. Fuck. You’re so useless. You’re expecting Dualscar to leave you, get freaked out by the emotional wreck of a grub he allowed into his hive.

But he doesn’t. He stays with you. If anything, his grip on you tightens.

“Okie dokie, lets go sit dowvn, shall vwe?” It’s more direction than suggestion. Dualscar leads you to a sofa, settling you down on one side before he takes the other, leaning forwards so your shoulders still touch. “So, you gonna explain vwhat happened there or am I gonna hawve to guess?”

You guess it’s now or never.

Your composure barely makes it past two sentences. Soon you’re wiping tears on your sleeve and talking through those disgusting spit bubbles that form on your lips, sobs jumping out to interrupt every five words. Dualscar must be so ashamed of you. He’s probably silent out of shock, not because he actually cares what his ridiculous excuse for a descendant is babbling about.

You tell him everything. How Feferi rejected you, how Sollux taunted you, how Kar chewed you out over something you hadn’t even done (yet). How you told yourself you didn’t care, they were just dumb land dwellers and a selfish heiress. But they were your friends, and you _did_ care, still do for some of them. You tell him about how you killed Feferi and Kanaya and the future of trollkind for good measure.

Then you stop being able to talk at all and just cry, sniffling and whimpering like a smacked wiggler who didn’t get their way.

You’re not even sure how you feel about what happened. Even now, you can’t quite pinpoint why your cheeks are painted in lilac streaks. Are you sad that you died? Sad that you killed your friends? Sad that your plan didn’t work? Maybe it’s all three.

Or maybe you’re just embarrassed because you’re a fucking waste of space who never does anything right.

You wait for Dualscar to realise this and leave, but… He doesn’t. He sits and listens, looking right at you the whole time, and at some point he puts a hand on your knee and squeezes.

Your hand looks so tiny when you lay it over his. You really are just a stupid kid, you don’t deserve any of this. The thought pushes up a new wave of tears that you sob into your sleeve.

This time, Dualscar goes one step further in his - oddly pale, you’re realising - reassurance. A thick, solid arm encircles your shoulders, pulling you against his brick wall of a thorax that’s already vibrating with calming sub vocals.

He clears his throat. “Shh, yer alright, let it out.” You can hear the slight strain in his voice, where he’s obviously not used to comforting anyone. But it’s the thought that counts.

You don’t quite ‘let it out’, you do have _some_ dignity, but you let Dualscar hold you until you can breathe and keep your cheeks dry for more than a minute or two.

Even when you try to push away, your ancestor keeps a grip on you for a while longer, rubbing your arm and then nuz-nuzzling your hair, oh _God_. This is pale, so pale. Why is he doing this?

You can’t stop yourself when you start to purr, high pitched compared to his rumbles, and nowhere near as loud as it should be. But as your own vibrations soothe you along with his, you find yourself clinging to him, hugging his body to yours with your arms stretched as far as they can go (yet still not all the way around him - holy hell).

He pats your back a few times, and you take the hint to let go.

“Maybe gin ain’t the right tipple for nowv.” He reaches over you a picks up both your glasses. “Howv’s about that milk?”

You wrinkle your nose at how ridiculous that sounds - a cutthroat pirate drinking warm milk - but nod all the same.

This isn’t exactly what you had planned tonight, or well, ever, really. But as you snuggle up to Dualscar with your warm, creamy beverage - fuckin _snuggle_ , like he’s a tame cholerbear or something - you don’t think either of you could have planned it any better.

Even if he’s not your official Moirail, just this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I love ancestor/descendant cuteness. It's a shame we never got to see any in canon, so I thought I'd write a little myself (more feelsy than I intended, but I like it).
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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